pray for the wicked on the weekend [agria]

The words dropped from the demon's tongue, and instantly Agria's grin fell. Not into a frown, but if anything her expressions seemed confused: in feeling perhaps. In thought? Yeah, maybe that was it.

Her gaze left the brute and wandered the walls, if anything a little sad. Emotional roller coaster all so suddenly, but was this her playing? Or was she truly showing colors beyond her wicked self.

"Are you so sure?" Very serious in tone, still refusing to eye the he-wolf. She began to trail delicately with the wall, each paw in silence as it landed. She grew closer to Kaine, but wasn't so directly toward them. She would then halt to turn her head toward them, a raise to her brow yet her maw lay straight without a feeling. "Do you need reminded of the last... man who... loved me." And her fuchsia optics fluttered back to the wall.

She wasn't referring to ripping their own throat out, that was for sure. Well, you know, unless they did something to deserve it. But it was more about her own turmoil, her scars, her ugliness inside and out. Kaine should have felt it at times. The pain she felt. But she was so good at hiding those internal scars that she hadn't even showed that real shame to him. Maybe it was so agonizing that she couldn't even physically show it any more.

She may have stuck a claim to Kaine, but they to her? It was a whole new level in her eyes. Her obsession wouldn't be true anymore, it would be their obsession together. The magical three words every school-girl dreamed to hear from a dashing prince, and here she was with the lingering thought of her past. She was no school-girl, definitely not.